I'll write. All the time.

In notebooks.

Remember those?

But POETRY is tough.  

Guess I prefer prose.

And yet, here I am,
waiting to be hosed.
Just like that bunny, I followed my nose.

AND HE RACED AND HE TRIED
AND HE WON BY GOD!!!

But the cereal market aint so easily awed.

The big wigs decided that
"Trix are for kids"

And relinquished the trophy from the bunny rabbit.

A child I was, it was so long ago.

BUT EVEN THEN I HAD THE SENSE TO KNOW
that the person (or rabbit) who had worked through and through was
entitled the prize, a world anew...

entitled the prize, just as foretold...

But *******, Trix Rabbit,
YOU DESERVED THE GOLD.

You worked, you trained, you made yourself speedy!
You were poor,  You were needy.

ONE DAY it will pass to a daughter so strong
while the brook runs deep and the dark vines wind long.

Another chance! It's what is deserved!
The players were cheaters, the judges absurd.

Injustice for all,
absorbed into my tiny child's brain
when the rabbit lost the race
and I felt his pain.